


Sinking feeling

by kidskylark



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (Reds are royalty. Purples/pinks are peasantry.), Hemoswap, Seadweller politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidskylark/pseuds/kidskylark
Summary: Aleida Khadib is a guardian of the drowned city, Sadachbia. Their job is to protect the depths from any would-be intruders from the surface. Inside Sadachbia, the rebellion has not happened. Life proceeds, just as it did many sweeps ago, with seadwellers - its only residents - as aristocrats. However, when landdwellers with diving gear finally make it to the city, their presence threatens that peace.A short exploration on hemoswap seadweller politics.





	Sinking feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Governess's quirk is the hewwo voice.

The Governess lifts her wand, and taps a partially-filled glass. The ringing sound reverberates through the bubble, silencing the buzz of conversation.

"The court will  _ pwease _ come to order!"

At her command, the citizens begin to shuffle to their seats. The courtroom is one of the more spacious buildings in Sadachbia, meant to house everyone in the city, and then some. However, as the city grew, this simply wasn't possible. The bubble is packed as is, with every seat and much of the standing room filled to the brim.

For this reason, the court system was expanded, to include a "lesser court." These trolls now move to their places, in the first two rows of seating. Despite their title, they dress to outmatch even the Governess, if they can. Each of them is assigned to a district of Sadachbia, and when the courts meet, they represent the citizens in their district. That way, even if those citizens can't attend, their concerns and opinions are still heard.

"There is a matter," says the Governess, "which is of the utmost importance. As you may know, we have some unexpected guests today!"

She's referring to the surface convoy. Word travels fast, you observe, because no one in attendance seems surprised.

"Our new friends came to visit us from the surface, by order of their own government-"

"- The Empyreal," says a courtier to her side, and you can hear a wave of hisses run through the people. Most of the noise comes from the eldest citizens. You, charged with keeping the peace, slam your trident on the floor for silence. They still.

The Governess doesn't look at the courtier. You know, under her veil, she is likely glaring at him from the corner of her eye, but she doesn't show it. She never does. Sometimes you wonder if she has eyes at all, under there.

"By order of their own government," she repeats, "they have come to say hello! And we, of course, take no issue with their greeting! We welcome visitors in Sadachbia, after all, even if they come from the surface. However, if our new friends can visit us, we're left with one small, teensy-tiny issue: our previous fortifications may not be quite as strong as we first believed."

"Fortifications," says another courtier with a sneer. The Marksman is a proud troll, and considers himself an expert in the art of offense. He's often at odds with The Governess, needling her constantly about directly attacking the landdwellers. She can't remove him from her court, because there are too many citizens who would follow him, but she's unwilling to bend to him either. "We have no  _ fortifications. _ "

"She refers to the city's strategic position," supplies the Argonaut. It's thanks to them that the surrounding area of Sadachbia has been surveyed and charted. You know them well - they occasionally work with the Guard to gather data. "I would urge you to attempt to keep up."

"Yes, yes, thank you." The Governess is trying to recover, but it's evident that her earfins have fanned by now. She's somewhat flustered, but she smooths over it quickly. "Yes, the position of our fair city has granted us many sweeps of peace and solitude. However, now, I would like to put forth, to the fair court, a motion to move the city."

It's like a bombshell. When it hits the polished marble floor, the impact is immediate. Order is shattered, blown to smithereens, as whispers, then murmurs, then regular speech race among the people. All of the Lesser Court are gearing up to make arguments, only seconds after the lone proposal, and honestly? You can't blame them. Sadachbia, as long as you've been alive, has been rooted here, in this part of the ocean. This is your home - not just the city, but the surrounding ocean, too.

A guard on the opposite end of the room slams their trident, and you respond in kind, as an echo of the sound works its way around the bubble. Together, all of you manage to quiet the crowd.

"You can't possibly be serious!" calls a member of the Lesser Court. One glare from a courtier silences them again.

"I am," says the Governess. "I wish to propose moving the city, and I would like to call for a vote."

Here, you notice that the only surprised reactions are from the crowd. The Lesser Court is just as baffled as the normal citizens, just as baffled as  _ you. _ But when you look up at the courtiers, flanking the Governess on her left and right... None of them are surprised.

"All in favor," the Governess begins to ask, but she doesn't get to finish.

Someone from the crowd says, "Wait!" When you look around in the ensuing silence, you can see no one standing. None of the Lesser Court, none of the people... And that's when you notice that everyone in the room is looking at  _ you. _

Your mouth goes dry. "I-" You're struggling to think. Your grip on your trident tightens, and suddenly your riding armor feels a size too small. "Don't.... don't we need to discuss the motion, first? Sorry - Apologies."

If you were anyone else, your speech wouldn't matter. You've seen members of the Guard get passed over in the courtroom, but you have something they don't have: The Governess's sign. Even her opponents still respect her, and by bearing her sign, by carrying her horns, you command the same respect - respect you, yourself, never earned.

It makes your betrayal here that much worse. As the Governess tries again to find her footing, it's the Marksman that speaks, leering at you. "What was that, Khadib? Speak up, won't you?" The tension in the room rises, and all of you can feel it in the air blowing past your fins.

" _ Owdew, pwease, _ " the Governess commands, again touching her wand to her glass. "The Lieutenant has asked for a period of discussion." You can feel her eyes on you. They burn. "Would they care to speak first?"

Your legs are shaking, you think. It's only your trident that keeps you standing. "Yes," you say, hoarse. You clear your throat and try again. "Yes, ma'am, Governess. Moving the city... would be an ordeal. And in order to prevent landdwellers from reaching us with their current tech, the only way to go would be down, deeper into the trench."

The Marksman rolls his eyes. You aren't looking at him, but you can hear it in the dismissive "tch" he makes, intending for everyone to know of his discontent. Still, his base respect allows you to continue.

"And the pressure - it's already dangerous here. If we go deeper, we may not be able to safely leave the city! Well, it's already, like, not safe." You're beginning to stutter. You need to shut up. You need to be quiet right now. "For guards or for trade, with the other cities, and with the rickshaws."

Your voice tapers off at the end, allowing you to hide amidst the rising tide of distress. As soon as you finish speaking, someone else picks up, echoing your concerns. Others speak after them, but you don't hear them. The tension in the room is battering you like a strong current, and you're starting to feel light-headed.

Suddenly, there's a hand on your shoulder, and another on your back, avoiding the dorsal fin of your armor. It's another member of the Guard. In ceremonial armor, they aren't wearing their gauntlets, just like you. The soft pads of their palms give you something else to focus on.

"Need to go?" they ask you, quiet. You can hardly hear it over the din, and you don't trust yourself to reply. You just nod. "Come on. I'll walk you out."


End file.
